Naturally, Sisa did not understand such Tagalog, and this ignorance calmed the Medusa's wrath, for one of the beautiful qualities of this lady was to try not to know Tagalog, or at least to appear not to know it. Speaking it the worst possible, she would thus give herself the air of a genuine _orofea_, [109] as she was accustomed to say. But she did well, for if she martyrized Tagalog, Spanish fared no better with her, either in regard to grammar or pronunciation, in spite of her husband, the chairs and the shoes, all of which had done what they could to teach her. One of the words that had cost her more effort than the hieroglyphics cost Champollion was the name _Filipinas_. The story goes that on the day after her wedding, when she was talking with her husband, who was then a corporal, she had said _Pilipinas_. The corporal thought it his duty to correct her, so he said, slapping her on the head, "Say _Felipinas_, woman! Don't be stupid! Don't you know that's what your damned country is called, from _Felipe?_" The woman, dreaming through her honeymoon, wished to obey and said _Felepinas_. To the corporal it seemed that she was getting nearer to it, so he increased the slaps and reprimanded her thus: "But, woman, can't you pronounce _Felipe?_ Don't forget it; you know the king, Don Felipe--the fifth--. Say _Felipe_, and add to it _nas_, which in Latin means 'islands of Indians,' and you have the name of your damned country!" Consolacion, at that time a washerwoman, patted her bruises and repeated with symptoms of losing her patience, "Fe-li-pe, Felipe--nas, Fe-li-pe-nas, Felipinas, so?" The corporal saw visions. How could it be _Felipenas_ instead of _Felipinas?_ One of two things: either it was _Felipenas_ or it was necessary to say _Felipi!_ So that day he very prudently dropped the subject. Leaving his wife, he went to consult the books. Here his astonishment reached a climax: he rubbed his eyes--let's see--slowly, now! _F-i-l-i-p-i-n-a-s_, Filipinas! So all the well-printed books gave it--neither he nor his wife was right! "How's this?" he murmured. "Can history lie? Doesn't this book say that Alonso Saavedra gave the country that name in honor of the prince, Don Felipe? How was that name corrupted? Can it be that this Alonso Saavedra was an Indian?" [110] With these doubts he went to consult the sergeant Gomez, who, as a youth, had wanted to be a curate. Without deigning to look at the corporal the sergeant blew out a mouthful of smoke and answered with great pompousness, "In ancient times it was pronounced _Filipi_ instead of _Felipe_. But since we moderns have become Frenchified we can't endure two _i's_ in succession, so cultured people, especially in Madrid--you've never been in Madrid?--cultured people, as I say, have begun to change the first _i_ to _e_ in many words. This is called modernizing yourself."